A fence leaning darkly
Tired gerontocracy
Tilted that way and this
Holds the ancient line
Gaps knotted and widening
Windows for loitering shoots
Daring to lean across the sills
Into the other side
-T. Weeks
(A response to “All Is Truth”)
Category: Poems
Key
Opened a drawer
Found a key
Old crowded teeth
Gather at one end
Last memory
Of tumblers departed
A handshake defunct
Circular symmetry
Crowns the head
Inscribed 962
A cipher indecipherable
A pin in a map
Bleached white
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Mannahatta”)
Hibernate
Cold dark silent mirror
Lying beneath cat tails and bent bladed grass
Swollen with ice melt and winter rains
The pond sleeps
Shallow even breaths sway tall pines
Expressionless rivulets flow in and flow out
Without intention
Pure conduits of motion
Neither fowl nor amphibian tread the shallows
Only delinquent drops from the thin canopy
Disturb the surface
Rings of random movement
-T. Weeks
(A response to “To a Locomotive in Winter”)
Morning Frost
Oh the gathered frost
Shadowed refugee
Mourning morning
Periphery witness
Of a changing world
In exile and nostalgic
For that hoary hour
-T. Weeks
(A response to “The Mystic Trumpeter”)
Tree
Trees would be terrifying
If I had never seen one before
A thousand creaking arms
With a thousand frozen elbows
Like a wave cresting
Just before it crashes
If I spied death in every yard
Would I take lazy naps in its shade too
-T. Weeks
(A response “Faces”)
Moon
Weeks ago I saw the moon
Since then I haven’t seen it
Of course it’s still up there
Shining despite my absence
But until I gather the gleam
Comprehend the shape
And recollect a name
It’s just a moon
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Thou Orb Aloft Full-Dazzling”)
Splash
surface
ripples
concentric
energy
glides
impermanent
expanding
circles
racing
nudging
returning
crossing
-T. Weeks
(A response to “A Paumanok Picture”)
Moving
Lifting packing hauling sweating
Cramming memories into boxes
At first I stop and admire each
A dusty faceted precious gem
Placing each in careful order
Long shadows of a hurried afternoon
Stretch interest into thin strains
Easily broken
Now I refocus determined to finish
Dumping the rest in a tumble
Careless and taped shut
Ready to be shelved at the next stop
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Thou Mother with Thy Equal Brood”)
Lives
Just teleport
Change guns
You’re gonna die
You got him
Get the ammo
Jump jump jump
What are you doing
You totally died
Let’s do something else
Like what
I don’t know
But I’m bored
We just keep dying
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Pensive and Faltering”)
Vacuum
Right now I am empty
A vacuum chamber
Nothing to say
Nothing to give
No materials colliding
Devoid of interactions
I am become a laboratory
A chamber of study
Watching from my window
What happens inside
When I do this…
-T. Weeks
(A response to “As I Watch the Ploughman Ploughing”)
Life Immense 